


Reunited

by Regressive_RS



Category: Runescape (Video Games)
Genre: Death, F/M, Future events, Other, Runescape Quest: While Guthix Sleeps, hurt fic, non-canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:27:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24663850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regressive_RS/pseuds/Regressive_RS
Summary: With the universe safe, and no reason for them to stick around, the World Guardian wants to finally pass on, like all those before them.
Relationships: World Guardian/Cyrisus
Kudos: 7





	Reunited

Winter slams her hands down on Death’s desk, rattling the quills, and sending the paper he had been writing on flying in the wind. 

“I’ve had enough!” she shouts, a fire burning in her eyes. Her hair is disheveled, and her clothing is ratty, but she looked the same. She always looked the same.

For two hundred years, Winter had lived. For two hundred years too long. Being infused with Guthix’s divine protection came at a price: Immortality and agelessness. A dream to many, a curse to Winter. 

Hot tears streak down her dirty cheeks, as she trembles against the desk. “I want to cross over! I’m not needed anymore!” she bellows.

It was true. There was no more grand threat. The Elder Gods had been sated. The Mahjarrat had been dealt with. The Gods, once again, were banished. Gielinor, was safe.

“For two hundred years I’ve watched everyone I’ve ever known die!” she sobs, her anger fading, replaced with overwhelming sadness. “First it was Cyrisus… and then Autumn…” she whimpers now, her lips trembling as she spoke.

“Now, even the elves are gone… I have nothing left.” She finishes, sinking to her knees in front of Death.

Harold sits back in his chair, listening to the World Guardian’s plea. They had maintained a close relationship over the years. Sometimes, more pleasant than others. Muncher, who had been sleeping in the corner, approaches Winter, laying his bony head in her lap. For the dog of Death, he sure was a loving fellow.

Harold rises, picking up his scythe from the side of his chair. Not once in his undeath had it ever gone dull. And today would not be that day, either.

“Your service has concluded, friend.” He says, his voice slightly uneven as he swings his scythe. The scythe passes through her as if she wasn’t there, and Winter’s soul is liberated from her body, which consequently slumps to the floor, lifelessly.

The next time Winter opens her eyes, she is in a place she remembers well. The bridge. She had never been here in good times. Turning her head, she sees someone she had not for many years. “Icthlarin…” comes her voice, stronger than it had been in years. The God of the Underworld turns, bowing his head. 

“Death…” she begins, before stopping. “Harold granted me release?” she corrects, to which Icthlarin nods solemnly.  
“He has, World Guardian. It is now your turn to cross over.” He says, waving his hand over the bridge laid out before them. Surprisingly empty of souls, these days. 

Winter turns to look over the bridge, her mouth slightly agape. She didn’t believe that Death would grant her request. She had begged for so many years. And now… here she was. Taking a tentative step forward, Icthlarin puts out his arm, stopping her.

“But first…” came his deep, booming voice. “There are some souls who have been waiting to see you for many, many years now.”

Whose souls possibly would’ve waited this long just to see her? Turning her head slightly, she goes to speak, before a voice cuts across her own.

“Winter?” rings out one, loud and strong, clear as crystal. Winter would never be able to forget that voice, even if she tried.

“Mom?” sounds the other one, soft and sweet, just like she remembered it. 

Winter’s heart nearly stops for a second time in as many minutes.

“No…”, escapes her lips, as she turns to the sound of the voices. A fresh batch of tears spring to her eyes, as they fall upon the ‘souls’. 

Winter takes off in a sprint, running towards them. In return, they take off towards her, the sounds of footsteps pounding all around and echoing off the cobbled stones of the bridge.

“Winter!” shouts the man again, still dressed in the last clothes he had been in, before he was slain by the vile mahjarrat Lucien.

“Cyrisus!” Winter cries, her heart thumping in her chest. She can barely see, but continues to close the gap between the three of them.

“Mom!” cries the sweet voice, no longer the courageous adult that had departed Gielinor while in Winter’s arms, but the vibrant and lively little girl Winter remembered.

“Autumn!” Winter nearly chokes, the three of them finally meeting in the middle, a mass of bodies wrapped in a hug. Not an eye in the area was dry, even the notoriously stone-faced Icthlarin could manage that.

“This can’t… tell me you two didn’t stay!” Winter sobs, reunited, finally, with the loves of her life.

Pulling back, she looks up at the man she loves, who looks down at her with his own tears in his eyes. “Of course, I stayed… Someone had to wait over for you, make sure you didn’t get into too much trouble… You were always too adventurous for your own good.” He says, lifting her easily and pressing a sweet kiss to her lips.

Her hands roam all over his back and through his hair, happier than she had been in over a century.  
Cyrisus finally sets her down, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Autumn… you too?” she manages, wrapping her daughter in a hug, feeling Autumn’s arm wrapping around her. 

“Of course, … Once I met Dad, I knew I had to stay until you came one day.” She whispers, gazing into Winter’s white eyes, her own green ones sparkling. “I couldn’t cross the bridge without you.”

Winter feels as if she might start crying again, and just presses a kiss to Autumn’s head. “I love you so much, my little smith.” She whispers.

Straightening out and stepping back once more, she dries her eyes, and rubs her cheeks. “There’s so much I need to tell you two.” 

Cyrisus shakes his head. “Nothing we don’t already know, or that can’t wait until we cross that bridge.” He says, slipping his hand into Winter’s. Gods, he had become so brave since she had known him. It was hard to believe he was the same man, even after all these years. 

Autumn finds Winter’s other hand, and slips her own into it. “We’re ready, Mom. Are you?”

Looking between the two of them, Winter nods. “I’m ready for anything as long as you two are with me.” she says with a grin, and they head back to the opening of the bridge. 

No words need to be exchanged, Icthlarin simply nods, and begins to escort them back to the bridge. Winter had counted the steps the last time she had been here, one hundred and thirty seven to be precise.

The first fifty steps pass without incident. The doors looming in the distance grow closer, and they march on with resolve. There was no turning back now, regardless. 

Winter questions herself during the next fifty paces. What was on the other side? What if there wasn’t anything on the other side? What if Cyrisus and Autumn had waited all this time for nothing? 

Winter begins panicking.

Glancing between the two of them, she feels them give a reassuring squeeze to each of her hands. Winter swallows, nodding. They weren’t scared. She shouldn’t be, either. Whatever happened… If ANYTHING happened… They were together.

With ten steps to go, Winter starts to count aloud. 

“Nine.” She says, Icthlarin stopping, watching as they make their final approach.

“Eight… Seven…” comes the next few steps, the giant and intricately carved stone doors swinging open. An abyss of black, with the unknown on the other side.

“Six… Five… Four…” She gulps now, the sounds of the raging river below drowned out by her own heartbeat.

“Three… two…” She says, the three of them stopping one pace away.

Winter leans up to give Cyrisus one last kiss, and rests her head on Autumn’s shoulder.

“One.” They say together, and cross into their next adventure.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my friend Katy for the original inspiration, and all those who I've mercilessly shoved into reading this in the time since 2016.


End file.
